The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. 260 “Can you turn me into one?” “Yes, I can turn you into one tonight. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. “Why not?” He asked.
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